Chapter 5: The Angler Among Us

Over lunch, I learned what Donnelly had been busy with lately.

He looked tired—more tired than I’d ever seen him. Between bites, he told me bits and pieces, careful not to say too much.

Since I was the last person to see Hank, but had no motive or opportunity, Donnelly shared some case details with me.

He trusted me, at least a little. Maybe he just needed to talk, to get it off his chest.

Including Hank, three people had now disappeared—no sign of them, dead or alive.

Three men, all gone without a trace. It didn’t make sense. People don’t just vanish in a town like ours.

The only thing they had in common: all three were anglers.

That detail hit me hard. Was someone targeting fishermen? Was it personal, or just random?

No one knew if the killer was picking victims at random or had planned it out.

Donnelly shook his head. “We’re working every angle, Marty. But there’s nothing—no pattern, no motive.”

The town isn’t big, and the fishing circle is even smaller. Even if you don’t know everyone, you’d at least recognize their faces.

It’s like a big family—everyone knows everyone’s business, for better or worse. The thought that someone in our circle could be behind this made my skin crawl.

I’d heard of the other two missing men, too.

I remembered seeing them at tournaments, nodding hello at the bait shop. Good guys, as far as I knew.

Thinking about who they were sent a chill down my spine.

I tried not to imagine their faces, but I couldn’t help it. The fear crept in, slow and cold.

Would I end up like them?

The thought wouldn’t leave me. I kept replaying every conversation, every weird moment. Was someone watching me, too?

Only now did I understand Donnelly’s warning.

He hadn’t just been worried—he’d been scared. For me, for everyone.

We couldn’t keep a lid on it forever. Three people vanishing in a row first set off a storm among anglers, then spread to the whole town.

The news spread like wildfire. Suddenly, everyone was locking their doors, checking in on neighbors, jumping at every shadow.

The once-crowded riverbanks were now deserted—everyone was scared they’d be the next to disappear.

The water was still, empty. It felt wrong—like the heart of the town had stopped beating.

I lost interest in fishing for a while.

I packed away my rods, closed the tackle box, and tried to focus on anything else. But it was hard. Fishing was my escape.